The Calling
by BingeB
Summary: Arthur is the Slayer, the one with the power to destroy vampires, demons & the forces of darkness. Which can be a problem, when you're dating a vampire. Arthur/Merlin SLASH
1. Prologue

DISCLAIMER: I own neither Merlin or Buffy The Vampire Slayer.

RATING: currently T for sexual situations and language - this is subject to change

WARNINGS: SLASH (Ye have been warned), language, sexual situations, violence of a supernatural kind

SUMMARY: Arthur is the Slayer, the one with the power to destroy vampires, demons, & the forces of darkness. Which can be a problem, when you're dating a vampire. Arthur/Merlin SLASH

**_A/N_**_Anyone who has seen Buffy The Vampire Slayer will recognise that the concept of this fic is borrowed from the show. Although based on Buffy, the plot to this story is mostly different, and you need no prior knowledge of the show._

_I've never tried anything like this before, so please give it a chance and let me know what you think! :) _

* * *

**The Calling - Prologue**

It starts when Arthur is walking back from football practise in the dark, after a rather uneventful day sitting at the back of class, flicking pieces of paper at the dweeb sat in front of him, and generally avoiding doing any sort of work. It's typical day for him, as normal and unexciting as ever, and he's looking forward to going home, taking a long, hot shower, and entertaining himself by abusing his friends (well, mostly Morgana) over Facebook, and watching reality shows on TV.

Arthur's so busy imagining his lazy evening, in fact, that he barely notices a man waiting on the corner of the street, dressed in a dark brown suit, and wearing a frown. He brushes past him, fiddling with his iPod, oblivious - when suddenly, a hand snaps out and clutches his arm.

Arthur jumps out of his skin, letting out a rather high-pitched shriek, as the suited man addresses him, his face haggard and hair grey in the lamplight. "Hello Arthur Pendragon," he says, his voice soft and greeting, but his grip is unrelenting, surprisingly strong for such papery hands.

The blond tries to pull away on instinct, squirming, and lets out a rather indigent, "Hey!" He stumbles backwards, blinking in incomprehension, because he has to be hallucinating - nothing this interesting _ever_ happens where he lives. "What the fuck?!"

"Do not be alarmed, Pendragon," the stranger says, and Arthur chokes back a bout of nervous laughter, because honestly, it's far too late for that. "I only wish to speak to you."

"Yeah, right mate," Arthur retorts, relieved to note he sounds suitably sarcastic, instead of completely terrified. He clutches at his iPod and his bag protectively, willing to fight to the death if the man wishes to steal them from him. It shouldn't be too hard a fight, after all - the guy looks pretty old.

Before he can turn and flee up the street, however, like the complete coward he is, something registers - rather belatedly - in Arthur's mind. "Hey, hang on!" he cries, stabbing his finger accusingly, "How'd you know my name?"

"I've been sent to you," the man replies matter-of-factly, sounding irritatingly calm in comparison to Arthur's internal panic. He dusts off his suit a bit, his hands clasped tightly in front of him, and informs the blond, "I am Gaius, sent to you from the Watcher's Council."

There's a pause, in which Arthur attempts to figure out whether the man is joking or not, while they stare at each other unblinking. As it turns out, Gaius doesn't appear to be joking, and Arthur has to wonder if the Watcher's Council is some sort of loony asylum.

"I've been sent to find you, Arthur Pendragon," the man continues, as though Arthur knows exactly what the Watcher's Council is, "To inform you of your destiny." He puffs out his chest a bit, and pauses, presumably to mount the tension, before announcing, "You are the Chosen One. You are the Slayer."

Arthur stares at him in complete bewilderment, and exclaims, rather loudly, "I'm the _what_?!

* * *

"Look," Arthur says, quite rationally, an hour later, as they walk through a graveyard, "I don't care what sort of pills you're taking, but I don't want to be part of your delusions, ok?" He rounds the nearest gravestone, and shuffles along uncomfortably, the shadows of the trees moving mockingly against the grass. "I'm just a normal teenager - I've never _slain_ anything!" He pauses for a moment. "Well, apart from that hedgehog that I ran over in my driveway."

The man, who calls himself Gaius of the Watcher's Council, raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him, and points out, rather smugly, "You wouldn't have agreed to walk with me if you weren't the least bit interested in what I have to say."

Arthur pulls his hoodie tighter around himself - shivering in the breeze - and informs him, in his most superior tone, "Yes, well, I've changed my mind." He casts a wary eye at his surroundings, slightly alarmed by the faint rustle of trees and the glow of the headstones in the moonlight. He wouldn't call himself scared exactly, because he's a Pendragon, but there's something sinister about the place, and every instinct in his body is telling him to run. "How was I supposed to know you were going to walk me to a graveyard?"

Gauis stares at him, as though the answer is obvious. "Where else would I lead the Slayer?" he asks, in what appears to be a rhetorical question, coming to stop by a gravestone. He looks fragile, and very, very old as he bends over to inspect the memorial, hunched within the confines of his suit.

Arthur hovers awkwardly, unsure as to whether he should just cut his loses and leave, before he finds himself asking, without any consent of his brain, "The Slayer? That's what you called me, right?"

Gaius smiles at him - an ominous smile, that sends ripples of panic racing down Arthur's spine. "Yes. You are the Slayer."

Arthur's fairly sure he's not a slayer of any kind, considering he can't play a simple game of football with receiving some sort of injury, but responds to his words nevertheless. "What the hell does that mean?!" he exclaims, more than a little confused by the strange turn his evening has taken.

"It means you're the one with the power," the Watcher replies, which isn't exactly informative.

Arthur flings up his hands, frustrated, and snaps, "_What power_?"

Gaius ignores him and looks up and down the graveyard, circling a headstone and peering down at the newly dug grave. "You alone can stop them," he continues, as though he's not even aware that Arthur had been speaking, inspecting the stone with careful fingers, and suit jacket flapping in the breeze.

"Stop who?" Arthur asks, completely bewildered and growing increasing freaked out, having lost all handle he had on the conversation - not that he had much to begin with. He shakes his head, backing away, and turns to look for the exit; his hands are shaking in the pockets of his hoodie, and he's not sure why he's so alarmed.

"The vampires," Gaius replies, quite pleasantly, and somehow the answer isn't even surprising, because the man is quite obviously _insane_.

"Don't be ridiculous," Arthur retorts, stumbling backwards and almost colliding with a headstone, his voice strangely high-pitched, "Vampires aren't _real_."

Gaius surveys him for a long moment, eyes revolving over his face searchingly, and back ramrod straight. "Into every generation a Slayer is born," he begins, in a factual tone, "They alone will stop the vampires, the demons, and the forces of darkness." He nods at him in a knowing sort of way, and gestures with a long sweep of a hand. "You are that Slayer."

Arthur boggles. "I - _what_?"

Gaius bends down slightly - well as much as a three-hundred year old can - and reaches inside his suit jacket, pulling out what appears to be a very sharp wooden instrument. Arthur stares at it for a moment, thinking _holy shit, he is going to kill me_, before he realises it's an actual _wooden stake_. Hidden in his _suit_!

"What - the - hell?" is all he can say in response.

The old man approaches him, hand outstretched, and Arthur is frozen to the spot, torn between turning and fleeing with his dignity in tatters, or actually entertaining the ridiculous notion that he's some sort of mystical Slayer. He takes the stake automatically, staring at it in complete bewilderment, as Gaius retreats, a small smile twitching at his lips.

Arthur opens his mouth, ready to issue some sort of denial - however shaky it may be - before the grave in which they are standing begins to shake. Only small tremors, but Arthur can feel it - from his hands, all the way down to the tips of his spine. The newly dug earth is moving, shifting, and as Arthur watches in horror, a hand bursts through the ground.

It's brown, and dirty, and clawing desperately at thin air.

"Oh my _god_," he breathes, sounding sick, even to his own ears. "That's _disgusting_!"

Gaius, on the other hand, sounds no less collected than he did a moment ago - and suddenly Arthur hates him, just a bit. "You alone can stop the vampires," he repeats, just as the hand, and then an arm, and then a torso, scrabbles it's way to the surface.

Arthur blinks, and before he quite knows what's happened, he's facing an actual vampire - hunched, covered in dirt, and snarling. It appears to be a man - or at least it _was _a man - but the face is contorted, brow scrunched and pointy teeth bared. He staggers forward, golden eyes fixed on its prey, and launches at Arthur a moment later, faster than the eye can see.

The blond is knocked completely off his feet and receives a mouthful of grass, but his hand is still firmly grasped on the stake Gaius had given him, lodged against his side. He hears growling in his ear, and knows the vampire is on top of him, snapping at his neck. On instinct, he kicks out his feet, and it must catch the vampire somewhere, because he manages to wriggle free in an impressive flailing of limbs.

"Gaius!" he cries, stumbling to his feet and ducking behind a tombstone as the vampire comes at him again, launching over the top of him. "_Help_!"

But the old man merely stands to the side, watching him carefully, head cocked and hands clasped firmly behind his back. "You don't need my help," he replies, and for a moment, Arthur really feels like swearing at him.

He turns, just as the vampire is about to leap at him again, and in a blind panic, does the only thing he can think of: thrust his stake straight through the creature's heart. The vampire, for a moment, makes a surprised sort of gurgling noise, before it's body all but explodes, skeleton disintegrating, reduced to dust before their eyes.

Arthur stares for a long moment, aghast, and manages to voice one, "_Fuck_."

"Good," says Gaius, in a tone of congratulations, with what might even be a smile. "Good. There could have been less hiding and more fighting, but you staked him, and that's all that matters."

Arthur makes a sound that's nothing more than a whine.

"I told you," Gaius says, "you have the power."

Arthur nods, somewhat shakily, and stares down at his hands in bewilderment. He has the power? He'd never - how had he never noticed? It's tingling in his fingertips, singing in his veins. He feels it.

"I have the power," he agrees, puffing out his chest. He nods. "Cool."

To be continued...

* * *

**A/N** Please R&R if you'd like me to continue, this is something I've never really tried before!

This is just a prologue, actual chapters should be much longer.


	2. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: _I own nothing - neither Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Merlin

_Summary_: Arthur is the Slayer, the one with the power to destroy vampires, demons & the forces of darkness. Which can be a problem, when you're dating a vampire. Arthur/Merlin SLASH

_Rating_: T (at the moment, could end up higher)

_Warnings_: SLASH, violence, language and scenes of a sexual nature ;)

* * *

**The Calling - Chapter 1**

After his initial fiasco with staking his first vampire, Arthur finds he's actually quite adept at the whole slaying thing.

He enjoys going out in the night, after a particularly boring day, and taking his frustration out of the nearest vampire. It's exciting, in a way he's never experienced before, and he relishes in the fight, testing his moves on any unfortunate creatures that cross him.

He buys himself some clothes - much to Gaius's distain - especially for slaying, and can't help but feel all sorts of impressive when he's wearing them. They're all dark, T-shirts in varying shades of navy (because blue matches his eyes), and black pants that cling in all the right places, but sometimes make it quite difficult for him to maneuver. He enjoys wearing them, because they look _badass_, and he buys himself a very expensive cross, in real silver, that dangles from his neck on a delicate chain.

Gaius trains him, in a tough-love sort of way, drilling him like a military sergeant and making him do press-ups when he gets stuff wrong. But it works, because he gets better, and quickly, able to take out vampires sometimes three at a time, without feeling as though he's going to keel over from exhaustion afterwards. He enjoys testing his strength, finding out what his new super-skills can do, and finds it particularly satisfying when he discovers he can punch clear through a brick wall and feel only a sting of pain.

During school, he spends most of his free time in the library, where Arthur learns Gaius actually works. It makes him realize how little he'd read before, considering he hadn't recognized Gaius at all the first time they'd met, and so he vows to spend at least a few days a week flicking through old tomes, learning all he can about vampires, demons and witches.

Most of his football friends question his sudden disappearance, but when Arthur informs them he's failing almost all his subjects (which he's not) and needs to study, they leave him well enough alone. Only Lance, his loyal best friend, embarks with him on his trips to the library, and so Arthur is often forced to hide 'The World's 100 Scariest Demons' behind a copy of 'Wuthuring Heights'.

Gaius is quite insistent that Arthur must also learn all he can about his powers (which includes super strength, speed, and accelerated healing, but no power to fly, he's disappointed to hear), as well as learn about the Slayers that came before him. This turns out to be a rather depressing task, as none of the previous Slayers seem to die particularly pleasant deaths, but it makes him more determined to hone his physical ability.

He starts going out on missions alone, and although he's nervous at first, the fights get easier – his powers get stronger and he finds his stride.

He feels confident in his new powers; he's the Slayer - the one who vampires fear. He can run faster than an Olympic sprinter, lift weights that weigh five times as much as he does, and send vampires reeling with a single punch.

...What could possibly beat him?

* * *

He's out with his friends for the first time since he was called, knocking back drinks (thanks to a rather unconvincing fake ID) and chatting with friends, and the whole evening just seems rather normal.

His best friend Lance - captain of the football team and general saint - is sat at his side, ignoring all the girls fluttering their eyelashes from the dance floor, and pining painfully after Gwen, Arthur's sweet (but geeky) lab-partner. It's all rather embarrassing, and if Arthur didn't like Lance and Gwen so much, he'd tell them to stop being so ridiculous and pull themselves together, because it's so damn obvious that they like each other. But as it stands, Arthur's too nice to say anything, and so has to spend most of his time listening to Lance lament about his unrequited love, while trying very hard not to bang both of their heads together.

"I mean, she said 'It's a date,'" Lance explains, for what feels like the millionth time, "But it was only a study session. That can't count as a proper date, right?"

Arthur gives something that is halfway between a shrug and a nod, because he's really not sure what the answer is. "You invited her tonight though, didn't you?" Arthur clarifies, bobbing his head to the music and taking a sip of his beer. It feels nice to be normal for a night, away from the graveyard, and even Lance's mental crisis isn't going to ruin it for him. "That must count as a date?"

"I don't know," Lance replies, shifting, "It's a casual thing, you know? I said I'd love to see her here."

Arthur nods, eyes scanning the crowd, until his gaze finds a familiar pretty brunette, talking with Morgana, Arthur's cousin/enemy/friend. "Well, it looks like she's taken the hint," he says, pointing over to the bar, where the two girls are nattering, "Gwen's over there."

Lance lights up, already half-way out his seat, and Arthur feels like face-planting the table, because it's just so damn _obvious_. Is Gwen _blind_?!

"Oh, you go then," Arthur says exasperatedly, as Lance moves to go and greet her, "I'll just sit here all on my own, don't worry about it."

Lance rolls his eyes, unimpressed, and cocks his head towards the dance-floor. "Oh please," he replies, unsympathetic but smiling, "It's not like nobody here would want to talk to you. Go dance - you'll be pounced upon in seconds."

And sure enough, as soon as Lance disappears in the direction of the bar, like the complete traitor he is, a pretty girl materialises beside Arthur's table, sweeping her dark hair over her shoulder and giving him a beaming smile. "Want to dance?" she asks, unsubtle, batting her eyelashes several times.

Normally Arthur would roll his eyes at such a display, but it's been a long tiring week, and he wants to have a bit of fun - if only for a night. He smiles back at her, feeling generous, and nods, downing his glass in a swift gulp. He's usually a bit more picky about who he grinds against, but she's pretty, and he's still only human, and _male_ - Slayer or not.

He lets her lead him to the dance-floor, on the pleasant side of tipsy, and throws back his head and stares at the blinking lights, swaying to the beat. He feels the girl press herself into him, hip to hip, and they grind together, slow and teasing and not exactly in rhythm. It's ok though - he deserves a break, and he's damn well going to make the most of it.

* * *

Two hours later and Arthur is on the very-tipsy side of tipsy.

He's still dancing, and drinking, although he's fairly sure it's not with the same girl - not unless she dyed her hair while he was at the bar. He doesn't mind though, and happily grinds against the replacement, definitely buzzed now, because his Slayer powers apparently don't include alcohol resistance.

He's enjoying the song (although he's not quite sure what it is), and getting progressively closer humping the girl in the middle of the dance-floor, when Lance's hand appears out of nowhere, and clasps hard at his shoulder. Arthur jolts, startled, feeling thankful that it's his friend and not a vampire, because with his complete lack of awareness, he'd already be _dead_ - and gives him an annoyed sort of look.

"What?!" he screeches, over the music, still moving awkwardly to the beat.

"Arthur!" Lance cries, and he sounds a little bit ragged, even desperate.

It takes a moment, but Arthur squints at him, and through his hazy fog, sees his friend's terrified expression, his paling skin. He freezes, face falling, and pushes his dance-partner away. "What is it?" Arthur asks, his stomach lurching in a way that has nothing to do with alcohol intake, "What's wrong?"

"It's Gwen!" Lance replies, taking Arthur's hand and tugging him off the dance-floor. "She's vanished! Leon said he saw her with a really creepy guy!"

Arthur stares for a long moment, attempting to process his friend's hasty words, before crossing his arms indigently, unimpressed. He sighs. "Lance, don't do that to me - you had me worried! Don't you think Gwen could just have gone off with a friend?" he says, because honestly, Lance is such a girl sometimes. A tall, handsome, football playing _girl_. "Or gone home?"

Lance shakes his head, looking impatient, as though _Arthur_ is the one being ridiculous. "No, you don't understand!" he says, flapping his arms about in a manner that is so undignified, Arthur has to wonder whether they can be friends anymore. "Morgana says he's a bad guy - she's worried, Arthur! _Morgana_ is actually worried! That's reason enough to panic for me! She's looking for her!"

That gets Arthur's attention. Morgana is a malicious harpy - cool, collected, and always in control. If she's concerned, there really must be an issue. "Morgana's worried?" he repeats, disbelieving, "Why, does she know him?"

Lance shrugs. "She knows _of_ him. Apparently." He shakes his head, clearly confused, and throws up his hands. "She was very vague - but she look scared, actually scared!" He shifts impatiently from foot to foot, his eyes scanning the club, and exclaims, "We need to find Gwen!"

Arthur holds out his hands, placating, because Lance is beginning to look a little bit hysterical. "Ok, ok," he mouths, about as soothing as he can manage, because he's not exactly the sensitive type. "Where's Morgana looking?"

"She's checking the bar and the girl's toilets. I've already checked the dance floor."

Arthur nods, feeling strangely sober now, and beckons his friend in the direction of door, keeping his eyes peeled for even a flash of curly black hair.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, and Arthur is definitely starting to feel worried. They've looked everywhere in the club, from the toilets to backstage, and there's still absolutely no sign of Gwen. It's unlike her to go missing, especially with a random stranger, and Arthur has the increasing feeling in his gut that something is really not right.

"Look, she's not here," he tells Lance, and he knows that Gwen is perfectly capable of looking after herself, but since becoming the Slayer, he knows a lot more about evil in the world - and he's frightened for her. Lance, however, appears to be frightened enough for the both of them, and so Arthur says, in his most rational voice, "She might have just gone home."

Lance looks hopeful at that, but not entirely convinced. "I've tried calling her," he says, "On her mobile and her landline, but there's no reply."

"She might just be in bed," Arthur suggests, although he knows he sounds less and less convincing. He jerks his head to the exit, and all but tows Lance from the club. "Lets go."

It's cold outside, and the wind bites at the at Arthur's skin, but there's still crowds of people smoking by the door, laughing and joking, and kissing. Gwen, however, is nowhere to be seen, and Arthur heart plummets, until suddenly, a swish of dark hair invades his vision.

"Morgana!" he cries, more than a little alarmed that she managed to appear inches from his face without him noticing. He clutches at his chest, heart hammering, and gives her a pointed glower. "Jesus, a little warning next time! You almost gave me a heart attack!"

She looks as elegant as ever, dressed in a sleek back dress and golden jewellery, but her eyes are wide, and her face paler than usual - white with fear. It's disconcerting, and Arthur himself is starting to feel a little bit afraid - but she still manages to address him with her usual disdain. "Stop being a baby," she scolds, giving him a disgusted sort of look, "This is an emergency. Have you found Gwen?"

Arthur looks from himself to Lance, and back again. "What do you think?" he asks, because honestly, does it _look_ like they've found Gwen?

"Don't get funny with me," she warns, her eyes narrowing, "I'm not in the mood." She lets out a breath, foggy in the cold night, and shakes her curly hair. "Trust me, this guy - thing - that Gwen went with, he's bad news. The worst. We need to find her."

She beckons a hand, and Lance and Arthur follow, away from the entrance of the club - and all the people - and towards the back, into the shadows. Arthur stiffens instinctively, his Slayer senses tingling now, and assessing Morgana through slanted eyes. She's looking about herself, jumpier than he's ever seen her, and her hands are curled into white-knuckled fists.

"I don't understand, Morgana," Arthur says in the uncomfortable silence, wary, "What aren't you telling us?"

She shakes her head, and lifts her shoulders in something resembling a shrug, and offers, "I can't - it's hard to explain. You just have to just take my word -"

Morgana's somewhat vague explanation is cut off, however, as a loud scream echoes through the darkness. They all stiffen, inhaling loudly, but it sounds strangely like -

"Gwen!" Lance screeches, taking off at a run, and Arthur feels like smacking his head against a brick wall, because it's just so _Lance_; very heroic and everything, but also very, very _stupid_.

He breaks into a run himself, following his friend down a back alley, and hears Morgana clitter-clatter behind him, sprinting surprisingly fast for someone wearing five inch heels. They round a corner, and Arthur accelerates, his Slayer speed sending him racing past Lance, and towards the source of the sounds.

He arrives at the scene first, if only by a second, and his heart shoots into his throat at the sight.

Gwen is trapped against a wall, thrashing and screaming, kicking out her legs, and a man - no, a _vampire_ - is braced over her, pinning her to the brick, and taking a long bite out of her neck. His mouth is covered in blood that looks strangely bright in the darkness, but Gwen is still very much alive - something Arthur feels very grateful for.

He approaches without hesitation, despite knowing both Lance and Morgana are at his back, and leaps towards the vampire, grabbing him by the neck and dragging him backwards. The vampires yelps, snarling in surprise, and turns to Arthur, Gwen's blood staining his lips.

The Slayer growls, because the _monster_ had hurt sweet, kind Gwen, and delivers a furious backhand to the vampire's jaw. The creature lets out a cry at the impact and goes spiraling backwards; into the opposite wall with enough power break the brick, and slumps unconscious to the ground.

Gwen lets out a small gasp of surprise, clutching at her neck, and Lance is upon her in an instant.

"Are you ok?" he gasps, helping her to her feet, his face shining bright and sincere in the dim light, "I was so worried."

"Yeah," she croaks, and gives him a watery smile, "I don't even - he said he was a friend of yours. And that he knew where you were. I didn't think - I don't know - what happened?!"

She turns to Arthur expectantly, who blinks back at her, trying to look as innocent and confused as possible. But Morgana is staring at him, her expression steeled, and Arthur knows that she's suspicious - that she knows _something_.

Lance however, appears to be oblivious. He points a shaky hand at the vampire, still comatose on the floor, and looks back at Gwen, at the blood still seeping slowly from her neck. He blanches, and addresses the alley at large: "What - what the hell was that?"

There's silence for a moment, as they all look at each other unblinkingly, and Arthur has to relent, because the vampire tried to take a bite out of Gwen's _neck_. It really wasn't that hard to figure out - in fact, Morgana looked as though she was already putting two and two together.

Arthur sighs, rubbing at his head, and admits quietly, "A vampire."

There's another pause, as they all stare at him in incomprehension, until Morgana exclaims, loud in the stifling silence, "How do you know about vampires?!"

Arthur recoils slightly, blinking, because _what_? _What_?!

"Um, I'm the Slayer," he explains, in a matter of fact sort of tone. Then adds accusingly, head swimming, "How the hell do _you_ know about vampires?"

She mouths at him silently, face an expression of utter shock, which can't be much different from Arthur's own. She crosses her arms, shakes her head, and explains, in the same sort of voice, "I'm a witch."

Arthur nods, like it isn't a complete surprise to him, and mouths, "Oh."

Now he thinks about it, Gaius _had_ mentioned witches in their training sessions, but they'd always sort of breezed past it, and honestly, Arthur hadn't really given it a whole lot of thought. But he's known Morgana years - how did he never know?

He doesn't have time to dwell on it, however, because Lance exclaims, in a very loud voice, "Uh, what the hell are you both talking about?!"

Morgana ignores him, still staring at Arthur, her eyebrows pulled together in a confused sort of frown. "The Slayer," she repeats, as though weighing the words on her tongue, "Wow. I thought they were only stories. You, the Slayer." She shakes her head at the thought, clearly bemused, and adds, "I can't even - how?"

Arthur shrugs, because he sure as hell has no idea. About anything, really.

"What?!" Lance cries, throwing up his hands and looking between them, "What's a Slayer?"

Morgana flips her hair over her shoulder, looking more collected now - more like herself - and draws herself up for an explanation. "A vampire Slayer," she says, quite calmly, her gaze locked onto Arthur's face. "One person in all the world - they alone can stop the vampires, demons and the forces of darkness."

"Wow," Arthur notes, raising his eyebrows, wondering how everyone knows more about the Slayer than he does, "You sound just like Gaius."

"What?!" Lance cries again, apparently unable to say anything else. He and Gwen are both staring at them in shock, bewilderment, and seeming concern. "Are you both kidding?"

Morgana cocks an eyebrow. "Does it look like we're kidding?" she asks, in what appears to be a rhetorical question.

Lance appears to have no response to this, other than blinking in confusion, and so Arthur decides to take the opportunity to question Morgana further; there's a lot he still doesn't understand. His brain doesn't seem to be doing a good job of processing the new information. He's had a lot to take in in the last few weeks.

"Have you come across vampires before?" he asks, curious, and somewhat impressed that Morgana had identified one so quickly.

"Not really," she admits, "But I've read about them in my studies of witchcraft, and when I saw the guy - it just seemed to make sense. But I didn't know for sure, not until Gwen disappeared; I had a bad feeling."

Arthur nods, annoyed he had been unable to identify a witch when he saw one. He had known Morgana for years; surely he should have picked up on _something. _

But before he has a chance to dwell on it further, there's movement from the other side of the alleyway; a soft growling that freezes everyone to the spot. After a horrified pause, Arthur spins on a heel, towards the vampire that's now climbing to his feet, angry and snarling.

Arthur lunges forwards, hoping to intercept him, but the vampire seems to be expecting it. In a show of speed that's faster than the Slayer could have anticipated, he vaults over Arthur's head, seemingly determined to avoid him completely, and lurches towards the girls.

Gwen screams, still clutching at her bleeding neck, and scrambles backwards. Morgana stays where she is, expression steeled, and thrusts out her hands as the vampire descends on them.

There's a bang, and as though he's collided with an invisible shield, the vampire is thrown backwards – spinning with the momentum and landing, shocked and wounded, at the other end of the alley.

Morgana's hair is streaming behind her, and her eyes are glowing, bright and radiant in the darkness.

Arthur blinks wordlessly, having never seen a witch in action before, and fights to suppress how impressed he is. Lance, on the other hand, makes no such effort, and is staring at Morgana, agog, as though he can't quite believe what he's seeing.

Morgana tosses her long curtain of hair over her shoulder - attempting to look casual - but a smug smile is already forming on her lips. "Interesting, it actually worked," she muses, trying and failing not to look too pleased with herself. "Are you ok, Gwen?"

Gwen is still crouched on the floor, staring at the vampire crumbled several feet away. She nods distantly, pointing a shaking finger as the vampire struggles to his feet once more.

Unwilling this to go on any longer, and ready to finish the vampire once and for all, Arthur pounces on him, hauling him to his feet and smacking him with such force he goes reeling backwards again. He snarls, arms failing, and catches Arthur in the face with such force that he's surprised it doesn't break his nose. They struggle for a moment, wrestling against each other, before the vampire gains purchase on Arthur's arms and uses it to haul him backwards and into the wall. Arthur blinks, scrambling to compose himself, but the vampire makes no move to attack him again.

Evidently realizing he's outnumbered, he turns, bolts down the end of the alleyway, and disappears into the darkness.

Arthur groans in disappoint; he'd gotten away.

He glances over to the others - glad they're mostly unharmed - to see them staring back at him in amazement. Even Morgana is struggling not to look awestruck.

"So," Lance says, after an awkward moment, "Arthur's the Slayer? _Really_?!"

"Yes, really!" Arthur replies, a little bit offended by the shock in his friend's voice.

It hardly evokes confidence when your own best friend doesn't believe you're any sort of saviour.

* * *

Two hours later and Arthur is beginning to wonder if he's ever going to have a long night's sleep again. It's very late now, even the club has mostly emptied, and Arthur is tired, continuing his hunt to find the vampire who escaped him.

His friends had gone home an hour before, bidding goodnight, and he hopes that they still want to speak to him in the morning. Now they know his secret, he's not sure how they will respond on reflection; will they ever want to speak to him again? He hopes so. And what about Gauis? He has a feeling the Watcher is not going to be pleased with the accidental reveal of his secret identity. But it's not as though he had any choice; Gwen would have been hurt if he hadn't intervened.

He practices his explanation speech to Gauis in his head and he sneaks through the undergrowth around the local graveyard, wanting nothing more than to climb into bed and have a long, relaxing sleep. Unfortunately, he still has a job to do, and he can hardly let a vampire who attacked his friends escape.

He tracks him surprisingly easily, having known the direction he'd fled, but stays hidden in the shadows, watching from afar as the vampire greets what looks like his mate.

She's tall, willowy, and shockingly pale: definitely another vampire.

It's strange watching them interact, and instead of launching straight into the attack, Arthur finds himself studying them – curious to how soulless creatures can have a relationship with each other. Surely such a thing is impossible? Vampires don't feel anything at all. Not love, not concern, not empathy – only anger and revenge.

But he watches them laugh, touch each other, and it looks so normal, so human – Arthur begins to wonder whether he's even tracked the right person.

His doubts vanish, however, only a moment later. The vampires spot something – and are suddenly conversing rapidly in hushed tones, studying with rapt attention a woman that is circling the edge of the graveyard. She's walking briskly, head down, wrapped in a furry coat and wooly hat.

Arthur tenses, alert, because suddenly he knows what's about to happen before it does.

The vampires divide, the man turning one direction and the woman the other, circling the woman who is about to walk unknowingly into their trap.

Throwing all caution to the wind, Arthur jumps from behind the bushes with as much bluster as he can, and shouts, "Hey!"

The woman (or would-be victim) looks up, startled, and spots the vampires that have frozen to the spot several feet away from her. Her eyes widen, and although she looks confused, she seems to sense there is danger; she turns on her heel and scuttles back the way she came, throwing frightened looks over her shoulder.

The vampires watch her leave, making no move to intervene, and instead decide to round on Arthur, who's standing innocently by a tomb – seemingly defenseless and unarmed.

The woman-vampire looks pleased to see another form of prey, but her mate blanches, recognizing him from the alleyway. "You!" he hisses, voice thick with contempt.

Arthur shrugs lazily, and replies, "Me!"

"This is the one from the alleyway," the vampire tells his mate, teeth bared, but noticeably makes no move to attack. "Who are you?"

Arthur grins, and unable to help himself, replies, "Your worst nightmare!"

Growling, evidently unamused with the reply, the vampires pounce simultaneously.

The woman catches him round the jaw, sending him staggering, but Arthur manages to deflect the man, hitting him square in the chest and sending him hurtling over a tombstone.

The vampires are confident at first, laughably cocky, evidently unaware that he's the Slayer, until he fights them hand to hand, enjoying switching from one to the other, dodging, and weaving, and rolling. It's fun, almost an exercise of sorts, because they're good - not new vampires, who've just crawled out of their graves, but actually _good_. He enjoys the challenge, bantering and baiting them, but it's been a long day, and he's growing tired.

He finally stakes the man, in one swift, clean blow, and watches - feeling really quite pleased with himself - as he disintegrates into dust.

_That was for Gwen_, he thinks.

His victory is short-lived, however, as the woman launches at him in a fit of rage, face contorted and eyes streaming. Arthur almost feels bad for her, until she starts clawing his face, talons sharp against his skin and scream piercing his eardrums. But she is no match for Arthur's sheer strength; she struggles to contain his blows and resorts to ducking wildly around him, unable to prevent herself from being driven backwards. He kicks her away, the force sending her tumbling into a gravestone, and propels himself forward, ready to finish the fight once and for all, stake poised for victory.

But before he can land the killing blow, a shadow materialises behind him, and he's intercepted by what's evidently another vampire.

The new addition is tall and broad, and smacks Arthur away, as though he's nothing more than an insect, ready to be swatted.

A moment later Arthur finds himself crumpled on the floor, reeling in surprise, and wondering how exactly he'd gone from being seconds from victory to collapsed in a heap, shocked and winded. He groans, hands scrambling to the stake that had been knocked from his hand, and struggles to regroup, his limbs screaming in protest.

"Valiant," says the woman-vampire, relief plain in her voice as she addresses the new arrival, hands curled into white-knuckled fists. She gestures to Arthur, still lying a few feet away, and snaps her teeth. "This one," she warns, fangs bared in contempt, "He killed Terrance. Valiant, he's strong."

Arthur spits out a mouthful of blood, attempting not to retort that Terrance had deserved it, and that Terrance was a bloody awful name for a vampire anyway, as the broad one turns to stare at him - his eyes sharp and gleaming.

He looks Arthur up and down for a long moment, clearing unimpressed, and addresses the woman in a bored sort of tone. "Go," says the vampire, who's called Valiant, apparently. "I'll see if I can handle the child."

Arthur swears, annoyed and indigent, because he is _not_ a child, and scrambles quickly to his feet. He is seventeen, and the Slayer, and can _drive_ for fuck's sake, so the vampire can shove _that_ where the sun doesn't shine.

The other vampire - the woman - turns and following Valiant's order, flees the scene, just as Arthur vaults over the nearest gravestone, stake poised in his grasp. He's fast - and normally the vamp would already be dissolving to dust - but Valiant is faster. He spins away from Arthur's strike, in the blink of an eye, and swerves until he's at Arthur's back, karate kicking him in the side before the blond can face him.

Arthur hits the ground hard and rolls with the momentum, temporarily winded, but using the speed to leap back to his feet. Valiant is before him in a second, and Arthur's neck snaps to the side with the force of the vampire's next blow, shocked and unprepared. He reels, knowing instantly that if he had been entirely human, the power of the punch would have killed him - snapping his neck with ease.

He staggers back and away, trying to escape, because this isn't how the fight's supposed to go; Arthur's the Slayer, the one with the power, and he should be _winning_!

But the vampire doesn't seem willing to let him leave, and Arthur thinks _bloody hell_, because Valiant is strong, stronger than anything he's faced before, and he realises in horrifying slow-motion - his whole life flickering behind his eyelashes - that he might actually _lose_.

The next hit is sharp, and even with Arthur's super-sharp reflexes, he doesn't have time to react beyond a rather pathetic - and somewhat feminine - cry of surprise. He's thrown backwards, his body almost spinning with the momentum, until he collides, really quite painfully, with a brick wall. His body crumples, and feeling as though he's suddenly made of paper, he collapses, his breath knocked out of him in a _whoosh_. He attempts to scramble to his feet, disorientated, but Valiant has reached him again, his iron fist colliding with his jaw and sending sparks shooting behind his eyes.

Blood splatters down his chin, and Valiant narrows in, and Arthur flails, because he knows that it's over now. Valiant has finished playing with him, and this is the part where he finishes him - where he sinks his teeth into Arthur's neck and sucks him dry, leaving his bloodless corpse splattered over the pavement. It's not really how Arthur ever wanted to die, and he really hopes he's not eaten by crows before his body's discovered - when suddenly there's movement out the corner of his eyes, and Valiant goes reeling back with a cry.

Released from Valiant's grip, Arthur slumps to the floor, head spinning and lungs aching, watching in a hazy vision as the vampire staggers backwards, hands steaming and hissing in pain. Arthur dimly registers _holy water_, before a strong hand clamps on his forearms and pulls him to his feet, attempting to tug him away before Valiant can regroup.

Arthur goes, but unsteadily, his feet moving slow and sluggish as he tries to escape. He looks from the hand now gripping his wrist, upwards, until his eyes find a face, shining white in the moonlight. It's a man - or perhaps only a boy - with sharp cheekbones and pointy ears, leading him away from Valiant's stumbling form. He's very slender, dressed in black, and maybe an inch taller than Arthur.

"Wow," Arthur breathes, still feeling a bit disorientated, "My own knight in shining armour."

The boy laughs, a high merry sound, if only for a moment, cheeks dimpling with the action. "Not quite, I'm afraid," he says, in a quiet voice, his grip still firm as he tows Arthur away. "Come, you need to rest."

Arthur nods, because although the night has suddenly gotten quite weird, it's now weird in a good way, and not weird in _I'm-the-slayer-and-vampires-all-want-to-kill-me _way. Looking at his saviour, he finds it's a distinct improvement.

TBC...

* * *

A/N Yay, Merlin's arrived!

I'm unsure about this fic, it's not something I usually write, so please review and let me know what you think :)


	3. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Warnings: language, violence, sexual content, and SLASH

* * *

**The Calling - Chapter 2**

When Arthur wakes up from a rather groggy attempt at sleep, he finds he's in a dark apartment, the blinds drawn and the mattress beneath him hard and uncomfortable. It's still dark outside, and the only source of light is from a small table-lamp on the other side of the room, casting everything in shadows.

Arthur lets out a small squeak of surprise and bolts upright, his head reeling, like he had downed three bottles of vodka the night before. He looks down, revealed to find he's actually fully dressed, but still on-guard, trying to recall how he had ended up in a random flat with absolutely no idea how he'd gotten there. He'd had drunken one-night stands before, of course, but he could usually remember _something_ about the random dude he'd had sex with.

"Oh _god_," he moans, just as the bedroom door squeaks open, and the owner of the crappy mattress enters.

In order to hide his embarrassment and _escape_ - as fast as humanly possible - Arthur swings his legs over the side of the bed and surges to his feet, looking steadfastly at the floor.

He launches into his morning-after reel, before the man in the doorway can so much as open his mouth, scrambling with his hoodie. "Look," he begins, fiddling with his zip that just won't _work_, "About last night, I'm not really ready for a relationship, and I'm sure the sex was good but -"

"_What_?" comes a soft voice, cutting through Arthur's spiel, sounding startled, confused, and actually quite _familiar_.

Arthur's neck snaps upwards, and it's actually pretty painful, because every part of his body is aching, and as he claps eyes on the other man, suddenly everything comes rushing back to him. Slaying. Valiant. Cute guy that saved him.

"Oh!" he exclaims, stabbing a finger at the man, who is staring at him in complete bemusement, "You. You saved me. From Valiant."

The man nods, looking strangely young with his hands shoved in his pockets and ears poking out from his hair, but still decidedly attractive. "Yes, I did," he confirms, still looking confused at Arthur's incomprehension.

"We didn't have sex," the blond realises, rather belatedly, "This isn't a one-night stand."

The guy is looking at him oddly. He shakes his head, but sounds almost questioning when he says, "No," like it's some sort of test question he's not sure he's answering right.

Arthur scratches his head sheepishly, feeling like an idiot. "Ah, right," he says, cringing. "Sorry. Just a bit confused for a moment there - thought I'd fallen back into bad habits." Feeling tired all of a sudden, and still very achy, now sure it's not a very awkward morning after a one-night stand, Arthur collapses back on the bed, closing his eyes for one relaxing moment. "Valiant must have soccer-punched me harder than I thought."

The guy nods, looking quietly amused, and says, "I see that."

Arthur takes a deep breath, drawing his wits about him, and opens his eyes. He stares at the man unblinkingly. "Who are you?"

The man smiles, and waves a bit, in a dorky sort of way, which has Arthur suppressing the urge to laugh. "I'm Merlin," he supplies, beaming, and revealing rows of shiny white teeth.

Arthur stares at him for a minute - in a bit of a befuddled daze - until Merlin's smile begins to falter, and he realises that he hasn't said anything in a really long time. Shaking his head to clear some of the fog, he asks, for clarification, "You helped me?"

Merlin nods again, slowly, as though waiting for Arthur's response. "I did."

Unable to feel anything but the aching of his own limbs, Arthur shrugs slightly, and finds he can say nothing more than, "Oh. Ok. Thanks," in reply.

Merlin blinks at him some more.

* * *

An hour later Arthur is beginning to feel slightly more coherent, as his super-Slayer healing powers start to kick in, and his body begins to repair itself. The wounds and cuts from the fight have already closed, and the ache of his bruised limbs begin to fade, even his headache reduced to a dull, infrequent thud.

Merlin watches him from a chair, looking curious, head resting on his elbow, but eyes bright and unblinking. He's staring at Arthur like he's some sort of strange specimen, silent, but fascinated, his gaze flickering over Arthur's wounds that have already begun to diminish. He doesn't look surprised, only interested.

"So," Arthur says, into the silence, "You know about vampires?" It seems like a sensible guess, considering Arthur vaguely remembers Valiant staggering away, steaming from holy water.

Merlin bops his head, but looks anxious, like he's unsure of what Arthur's reaction will be. "Yes."

Arthur processes this for a moment, less surprised than he should be, that someone else knows about vampires. There's Gaius and the Watcher's Council after all, so maybe Merlin is a part of it? "And you know I'm the Slayer?" he continues, because it appears everyone knew before he did.

"Yes," Merlin confirms, before adding, somewhat reluctantly, "I've been following you."

Arthur stares at him, unsure of how to reply, because what do you say when someone admits to stalking you? He opens his mouth, shuts it, brow furrowing, and eventually decides on, "And what? You want to help me?" choosing to breeze past the fact that Merlin had been following him - because well, he didn't even want to think about it.

The man nods again. "Yes."

"Really?" Arthur retorts, before he can stop himself, looking Merlin up and down in slight disbelief. He raises his eyebrows questioningly, taking in Merlin's skinny frame and overlarge ears, saying, "Because, no offence, but you don't look as though you can fight your way out of a paper bag."

Merlin laughs, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree, head tilted, neck exposed and Adam's Apple bobbing. "Appearances can be deceiving," he replies, giving Arthur a pointed little look himself, "You should have learnt that by now. I'm here to -" he pauses for a moment, as though measuring his words "- I'm here to guide you."

Arthur still finds it a little hard to believe, but the guy _had_ saved him from Valiant, so who's he to argue? "Ok, well then," he says, slowly, ready to test his new-found _guide,_ "Then why did I lose so epically to Valiant?"

His face scrunches, recalling his humiliating defeat the night before, and he attempts not to shudder, the memory of colliding with a wall flickering behind his eyelids. "I've been doing everything Gaius has been telling me - fighting multiple vampires at the same time, sometimes! - but he was just too strong. I couldn't win."

Merlin watches him for a long moment, and his expression is sympathetic, and strangely intense.

"You have the power to win," he says at last, voice tinged with certainty. "He's not someone you can't handle. Nothing or nobody is indestructible. It's just a matter of figuring out how to defeat them."

Arthur wishes it were only that simple.

* * *

When Arthur arrives in the school library on Monday morning, he's no longer wincing in pain; he's still bruised, his torso black and blue, but his face is mostly unblemished, tainted only by swelling in his jaw. He feels grateful for his super healing powers, not wanting to worry his Watcher with the significance of his defeat.

He braces himself for the explanation to Gauis, preparing and embellishing the story in his mind. If he explains the situation properly, there's no way Gauis can berate him for the reveal of his identity to his friends; he saved Gwen's innocent life, after all. Just like a Slayer's supposed to.

He breathes in deeply, silently cursing his own fear of a little old man, when he rounds a bookcase and finds himself face to face with - not his Watcher - but his friends.

Lance, Gwen and Morgana are stood huddled together, whispering worriedly, and jolt in surprise at his appearance.

"Arthur!" Gwen breathes, sounding alarmed, eyes flittering worriedly across his face.

Arthur grumbles in annoyance; he doesn't look _that_ bad.

"What are you guys doing here?" he asks, knowing before he finishes that they are going to ignore him. He wishes to be more annoyed, but considering they are even speaking to him at all after the night in the alleyway, he feels only relief. He knows it must be difficult for them to process what happened.

Lance hurries to his side, placing a comforting hand on his arm as he squints at his face; Arthur refuses to flinch under the scrutiny. "What happened to you?"

The Slayer shrugs a casual shoulder, which would probably be more convincing if he didn't wince with the pain of it. "Nothing," he insists, and turns his attention to Gwen; she looks well, although worried, and he can see swelling on the side of her neck. "Are you ok?"

She nods. "Thanks to you. He didn't hurt you, did he? The v-vampire?"

"No," he replies, as they turn to him expectantly. He struggles for a moment, wondering whether to elaborate, but looking at their supportive faces (with the exception of Morgana's), he feels he owes them something – an explanation at the very least. "Not him. I finished him… They're were others."

"Others?" Morgana says sharply, and unless he's mistaken, there's something like concern tinged in her voice.

"Two. A woman. And another man," he explains, images of the previous night flashing through his mind; brick crumbling, blood splattering, and Valiant lowering his teeth to his neck. He shivers. "The man – he was… different."

"What do you mean?"

"Stronger," he replies, surprising himself with the ease that he is confiding in them. Since he became the Slayer, the relationships with his friends changed – invisibly strained by what he was hiding from them. Now he feels nothing but gratitude that they are not only listening, but supporting him too; he doubts his friends from the football team would be quite so understanding. "He was stronger than anything I've faced before."

"And yet you escaped?" Lance guesses, sounding both impressed and frightened.

The Slayer shrugs, pausing. He owes his life to Merlin – the pale, skinny man who had materialized from the shadows to aid him. But the more he thinks about it, the more it feels like a dream; a figment of his imagination conjured by the unbearable pain. He doesn't even know how to begin to explain it.

And so, he says simply, "Merlin saved me."

"Merlin?" Gwen questions, brow furrowing, "Who's Merlin?"

"The guy who saved me," Arthur explains, in his most patient tone. He shrugs his shoulders and attempts to look casual about it - but his heart is skittering at the thought. "Tall, skinny, carrying holy water."

Morgana's eyebrows disappear into her hairline, and she says sharply, "He was carrying holy water?" There's a strained pause. "He knows about vampires?"

Arthur opens his mouth, ready to reply '_Obviously!_' in his most snotty tone - somewhat defensive from her questioning - when there's a pointed cough from behind them.

They all spin on a heel, alarmed at being overheard, only to find Gauis stood by the door and staring at them expectantly, one brow perfectly arched. Arthur shrinks back subconsciously.

"I think the question here is: how do _you_ know about vampires?" he says, looking from Lance, Gwen to Morgana, and back to Arthur again.

The Slayer curses, his heart leaping in alarm. He feels more frightened at the thought of Gauis's wrath than he does in a graveyard, surrounded by vampires. Because he's a coward like that.

"Gauis!" he cries, in his most joyful tone, attempting to pull himself together. He eyes the door, wondering whether he could make a bolt for it without anyone catching him. He really doesn't want to try and explain to his Watcher why his friends now know of his supposedly 'secret identity'. "What a lovely surprise to see you here!"

His Watcher doesn't appear too impressed with his flattery. "I work here, Arthur," he remarks, utterly deadpan, and gets straight to the point: "So I see you've told your friends about vampires."

Arthur cringes, recoiling under the heat of the old man's stare. "I wouldn't say _told_," he explains, silently pleading to the others for help, "They were just sort of there."

"Yes!" Gwen says quickly, apparently the only one receiving his telepathic messages; he would kiss her if he didn't think Lance would strangle him with his bare hands. She points at her neck with a shaky hand. "I was attacked by a vampire! And Arthur saved me!"

Morgana scoffs, sweeping a curtain of hair over her shoulder, and adds, "I helped."

Arthur throws her a glare, silently praying she does not elaborate further. It's bad enough just explaining the vampire part – there's really no need to bring witches into it.

"Yes," Lance chimes, seemingly wanting to join the conversation and not noticing Arthur's panicked gaze. "Morgana's magic powers really helped."

Arthur's heart sinks around his navel.

Gauis stares for a long moment, attempting to process the new information. "Magic powers?!" he repeats, incredulous.

"Morgana's a witch," Arthur admits, because there's no point in attempting to save the conversation now. He might as well just admit he also slept in the bed of a striking man who saved him from a super-powerful vampire armed with nothing but holy water, and be done with it.

"I think I need a cup of tea," says Gauis, and turns Arthur thinks a large whiskey would probably do a better job.

He turns and shuffles towards his office, and shuts the door with a snap.

There's a pause, and Arthur lets out a long breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.

"Well," he shrugs, "That could've been worse."

* * *

Two days later and Arthur is patrolling a graveyard in the middle of the night. He's tired, as he always seems to be since he became the Slayer, and he's not in the mood to fight. He wants to curl up in bed, with a hot chocolate, and perhaps watch Jersey Shore on repeat.

The thought soothes him for a while, as he daydreams, circling a nearby tomb half-heartedly and pretending he's safe and warm inside his house.

He glances quickly at his watch, blinking at it blearily in the darkness, and decides he's had enough. He's had a long week, and even Slayer's - although strong - still need their rest.

He turns and heads towards the direction of his home, attempting to suppress his disappointment that Merlin had not shown himself. He's starting to wonder whether the whole thing had been some sort of bizarre dream - where a Knight in Shining Armour (or a hoodie, as Merlin had been wearing) had rescued him from the evil demons.

But he's still feeling the realness of his injuries, throbbing in a painful reminder, and knows what happened was real.

He looks around suspiciously, recalling Merlin's words about following him, but sees and hears nothing. The wind is loud and nearby rubbish is rustling, but he senses nothing else at all. It leaves him feeling strangely... disappointed.

Sighing in defeat, he shoves his hands in his pockets, only to be startled when there's a sudden movement in front of him, and somebody materialises from the shadows.

His first thought is _Merlin_...

And his second thought is _perhaps not_, as a large first whistles through the darkness and connects to the side of his face with a resounding _smack_.

He staggers backwards, bewildered, eyes frantically attempting to adjust - when suddenly Valiant is there, looming above him, stark white and snarling.

He looks around in panic, hoping to find Merlin, but he sees nothing but Valiant's incoming fist and realises he's very much alone.

He leaps backwards, his instincts telling him to run - his limps already screaming in protest. But there's no way Valiant is going to let him escape, not this time. He descends on him again, in a flurry of fists, and Arthur moves quickly to deflect them, suffering only a blow to the stomach.

He fights hard, meeting Valiant toe-to-toe, and although it's difficult, the fight is more balanced now, and not the utter humiliation that the last one had been. He knows what to expect, and he's concentrating, unwilling to let Valiant catch him off guard again, and send him hurtling into any more buildings. But Valiant is still strong, perhaps stronger, and it's all Arthur can do to keep up with him.

He spins backwards, to avoid a blow to the solar plexus, eyes tracking Valiant as he moves, ducking behind some foliage and striking out, landing a punch to the vampire's stomach. Valiant stumbles, but only slightly, and is upon him again in less than a second, returning with a hit of his own. Arthur's somewhat expecting it, and manages to remain upright, but he's off balance, and Valiant presses again, working his advantage. Before he quite knows what's happened, Arthur has face-planted the floor, and rolls away, knowing instinctively that the vampire will follow him.

He launches to his feet, winded _again_, but still alive and kicking, which is more than he can say for their last encounter. He rotates on one foot and lands a solid roundhouse kick on Valiant's jaw, that for one brief moment, sends him spinning away. He uses the second to rally himself, breathing hard, and comes to the conclusion that if he wants to win this - and he really, really does - he has to do the unexpected, and catch the vampire off-guard.

He turns and runs, determined to find the higher ground and place himself at an advantage, fleeing the graveyard and scaling the embankment on the other side. He can feel Valiant following him, his Slayer-senses tingling, as he rushes through undergrowth and into a wood. It's dark, and he knows that without his new heightened senses, he would not be able to see anything at all - the trees vague blurs around him.

Wondering distantly if Merlin is following him as well, Arthur pushes himself to go faster - faster than he's ever run before - his Slayer speed pushed to new limits. He wants to put as much distance between himself and Valiant as possible, if his plan is to work, and filled with his new determination, his powers seem to be that much stronger.

After a long minute, sure now that Valiant has fallen slightly behind, he leaps upwards, his fingers closing on the branch of a tree, which he uses to flip himself upwards. He clutches onto the bark, gaining his footing, and waits, holding his breath and listening closely, ready for Valiant's approach.

His stake is clasped in a sweating palm, poised for the attack, and he crouches, ears straining for any sort of sound. After a moment - that couldn't have been more than a couple of seconds - there's a whoosh below, the sound of swift, quiet footsteps, and Arthur knows that it's time.

Just as Valiant sprints past below him, he leaps from his hiding place, landing on the ground in momentary crouch he would never have been capable of a few months ago, and strikes forward, just as Valiant realises he's there.

The vampire doesn't have time to do anything but turn to face him, however, before Arthur drives his stake into his chest with all his strength, until the wood comes out the other side.

Valiant lets out a small cry, eyes widening in surprise, before he disintegrates, and like all the vampires before him, dissolves into dust...

"Impressive," says a voice from the shadows, as Arthur attempts to regroup, stretching his aching muscles and catching his breath. His hair is stuck to his forehead with sweat, vampire dust is clinging to his clothing, and he groans, because why does Merlin always have to find him when he looks like a tramp?

"Merlin," he greets, turning to face him, "What are you doing here?" He frowns in confusion, taking in Merlin's muddy shoes and windswept hair, before stabbing his finger in accusation. "Hey, hang on! Have you been here the _whole_ time?!"

Merlin blinks at him innocently, and shrugs one shoulder. "No, of course not," he replies, which quells the Slayer's irritation for one brief moment. Until, "I lost you for a bit when you left the graveyard."

Arthur is unimpressed. He narrows his eyes and fixes the other man with his most deadly glare, hoping that Merlin can feel his rolling waves of contempt. "So you were in the graveyard, just watching me get my ass kicked?!" he exclaims, unsure as to whether he really wants to know the answer.

"You weren't getting your ass kicked," Merlin replies, like that is explanation enough. He smiles, all wide and crinkling eyes, and nods his head in acknowledgment, informing the Slayer, "You held your own." He pauses for a moment, and adds, almost as an afterthought, "And yes, yes I was in the graveyard."

"Thanks for helping out," Arthur says sarcastically.

Merlin merely continues to smile at him, either not noticing Arthur's blatant insincerity, or simply choosing to ignore it. "I was just watching to make sure you were ok," he explains, shuffling back on the balls on his feet. He looks up at the trees, swaying ominously above them, and says, "I like the whole run and jump from a tree approach - I don't think that's been done before."

Arthur stares. Pauses. Then, "Are you taking the piss?"

The man looks back at him, eyes bright and guileless, and replies, in plainly honest tone, "No."

"Oh," Arthur mouths, surprised and a little bit stumped. "Well. Thanks." He gives Merlin an odd sort of look, and adds uncertainly, "I guess."

* * *

When Arthur informs Gaius of his victory the next day, really quite proud of himself, the Watcher manages to nod his approval, seemingly surprised that he'd managed to kill such powerful vampire by himself. He raises his eyebrows, unsure of whether to be offended or not, but let's the slight pass.

"I was amazing," he explains, because it's true. Never let it be said he's one for modesty. "I mean, he came at me, like really fast, you know, and I knew I needed to figure out how to beat him. So I ran into the woods, and he followed, but I was ready for him - I had a plan! And I swung from a tree and staked him, right in the heart, and sort of stares at me, you know, all angry and stuff, before he goes _poof_."

Gaius stares at him for a long moment, seemingly attempting to register what he's saying, eyes narrowed confusedly. He often does that when Arthur speaks, like he's working hard to actually understand him.

The Slayer waves a casual hand, feeling high from his victory and suddenly less worried about secrets than before. Throwing all caution to the wind, he adds, "I can't take all the credit, of course - Merlin did save me the first time."

This gets Gaius's attention. He blinks a bit, frowns, and asks, in a tone that is almost hesitant, and most definitely questioning, "Merlin?"

"Yes, he saved me," Arthur explains, shrugging off his school bag, like it's no big deal, and opening it. He shuffles through his books, casual, and pulls out a can of Coke - gulping down almost half in one giant swallow. He hopes Gauis can actually help him figure out how Merlin is. "He said he knew about me. I thought maybe he was part of the Council or something."

Gaius shakes his head, brow furrowing, and informs him in a rather strange voice, "There's no Merlin in the Watcher's Council, Arthur."

The Slayer blinks a bit, questioning, as he watches Gaius frown, his eyebrows knitting together in discomfort. Suddenly he doesn't feel so confident.

"What?" he asks quietly, his stomach sinking, because expressions of unease never mean anything good. "There's something you're not telling me? What is it?"

Gaius lets out a breath and looks away, pulling off his glasses and polishing them absently on a sleeve. "I know a Merlin," he confesses, grave, "Or at least I've heard of one."

"Yeah?" Arthur croaks, his voice stuck somewhere in his throat. He picks up his can of Coke and takes a gigantic gulp, letting the cold drink wash down his closing windpipes.

"Yes." Gaius nods. "He's a vampire."

Arthur coughs, astonished, and sprays Coke all over the table.

* * *

It takes Arthur and Gaius less than two minutes to locate information on Merlin the vampire, because it appears he's actually quite well known - in demonic circles, at least. They find extracts of him in Watcher's journals and in a book entitled, '100 Greatest Monsters of the 18th Century' - a book so terrifying, Arthur can barely bring himself to look at it.

The entries on Merlin are long, and rather graphic in detail, and Arthur's reads them with his heart lodged in his throat, thinking _holy crap, I was attracted to a psychotic serial killer_. It's disturbing on so many levels.

_Merlin Emrys is a notorious vampire, sired around the mid 18__th__ century. He's widely regarded as The Magician, for the way in which he hypnotises his victims before murdering them. As someone who was only a teenager when sired (reports indicate around nineteen years old), he is known for his deceptively innocent and elfin appearance, which he uses to entrap his victims. Highly skilled in combat, although not regarded as particularly strong for a vampire, he is renowned for his exceptional speed and agility, which makes him a highly formidable opponent. His skill is such that he fought two Slayers in his decades of terror, and emerged victorious, succeeding in killing them both._

_(See: Slayer Ling Wei, Slayer Nathan Green)_

Arthur stares at the words in front of him with a vague sense of horror, and resists the urge to throw up a bit in his mouth...

To be continued...

* * *

A/N Please review and let me know what you think! :)


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer - I do not own Merlin or Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Warnings - SLASH, language, violence, scenes of a sexual nature

NOTE: This fic is completely unbetad, so any mistakes are mine that I haven't spotted in the reread

* * *

**The Calling - Chapter 3**

At lunch Lance and Gwen come to sit with him. It's hardly a rare occurrence, but he had hoped - somewhat foolishly - that his twisted scowl and plainly dark mood would warn them away. They seem to be immune to twisted scowls and dark moods, however, because they approach him with wide smiles, and trays filled with various foods.

"So," Lance says, as soon as they're seated, looking eager, expectant, and a little bit confused, "You were crushing on a vampire?"

Arthur groans, cursing Gaius for telling them, because honestly, it's the last thing he wants to talk about, and flicks a chip at Lance's head. "For I start, I was not crushing," he informs them, in his most snotty tone. He crunches down on his burger as loudly and obnoxiously as possible, resisting the urge to put his fist through the bench (which he could) and make himself feel better. "I barely knew him. I just thought he was mildly -" _insanely_, he brain corrects "- attractive."

Lance, seemingly unable to sense it's an uncomfortable subject, surges onwards, as Gwen looks on in dismay. "But he took you back to his place?" he says, eyes wide and curious. "And you slept in his bed?"

Arthur answers through gritted teeth, and not just because he's eating, swearing to himself he will never tell anyone anything, _ever_ again. "I didn't _sleep_. I was unconscious."

Lance takes a few seconds to process this information, nodding, and helps himself to his own packet of crisps. Just as Arthur thinks the subject has been dropped, however, he speaks again, sounding confused. "Did you not notice?" he asks.

"That he was an evil creature of the undead?" Arthur replies. "No Lance, obviously not. He wasn't exactly forthcoming with the details."

"Still, you know, I thought you might have some sort of Slayer sense - like a vampire locator," Lance says conversationally, evidently oblivious to Arthur's mounting annoyance. He munches thoughtfully for a few moments, before asking, as though the answer is not obvious, "_Do_ you have a vampire locator?"

Arthur stares at his friend incredulously. Then, "_No_!"

* * *

That night, Arthur finds himself in a now familiar graveyard, beating the nearest vampire to a pulp and trying not to imagine Merlin coming for him, fangs bared and eyes gleaming. He hadn't known the man long, but he'd seemed sweet, and helpful, and _good_ - and Arthur feels just a little bit cheated.

He knocks the vampire back, and with a small cry of frustration that has nothing to do with the fight, Arthur stakes him through with chest with unnecessary force - the vampire exploding in a violent shower of ash. Arthur dusts off his hands, not feeling much happier, when a voice sounds from behind him.

"You're getting better," says the voice, soft and kind, "The fight with Valiant did you good."

Arthur spins on a heel - faster than he's ever moved before - and launches forward, landing a swift uppercut on the vampire's jaw that sends him spiralling backwards. He hits the floor, looking confused but unharmed, before Arthur descends on him, bracing Merlin's hips between his legs and pressing his stake, sharp, against the man's unbeating heart.

"Whoa!" Merlin cries, eyes wide and very blue, staring down at the stake in complete astonishment. He raises his hands in a gesture of surrender, but Arthur is unrelenting, pushing him down harder into the grass. "What are you doing?!"

"Don't play innocent with me!" Arthur cries, sounding far angrier than he actually intended. He cringes, annoyed with himself for sounding so painfully _uncool_, but continues regardless, his stake actually shaking against the other man's throat. "I know what you are, vampire!"

Merlin blinks in surprise, looking - for a moment - very lost and very small, before something changes in his expression. His face twists, and there's a flash of amber in his eyes, and Arthur thinks, _crap, he really is a vampire, _his heart sinking to somewhere around his navel. He presses his stake into Merlin's chest, nervous and shaky, because the vampire has killed Slayer's like him before, and with good reason - because a moment later, Merlin surges his hips, knocking Arthur off balance and onto the floor, as he twirls to his feet, faster than anything the Slayer's seen before.

"Hey!" Merlin yelps, as Arthur regains his bearings and leaps back upright. He waves his hands around a bit, dodging to the side as the Slayer reaches for him, his moves light and graceful - almost lightning fast - a little bit like he's dancing. "Stop attacking me!"

"What?! So you can kill me first?!" Arthur snaps, kicking and punching in an impressive flailing of limbs.

Merlin evades his attacks in a scary show of speed, although barely - because Arthur begins to adjust, becoming more brutal, and more accurate. At first the vampire makes no effort to fight back, only defend, until Arthur finally lands a blow - a blow so filled with contempt and frustration that Merlin goes hurtling backwards, over a headstone and into a tomb. He crumbles to the ground and Arthur seizes his chance, flying forward with his stake in his grasp.

Merlin, however, seems unwilling to just let Arthur stake him - which although unsurprising, doesn't quell Arthur's anger at all. He strikes his fist out at the Slayer's approach, and it catches him around the jaw, snapping his neck back with such force that Arthur knows he'll be suffering from whiplash for weeks. He tumbles across the ground, and smacks his head against a tombstone so hard that stars explode behind his eyelids. He brings a hand up to his hair and feels warm, sticky blood trickle through his fingertips.

The vampire is staring at him through bright searching eyes, but makes no move to attack, merely watching Arthur investigate his head-wound, braced against the cold stone. "I'm sorry," he says, sounding loud and a little bit fuzzy in the quiet world that's blurring in and out of Arthur's vision. "Are you ok?"

The Slayer clings to the tombstone he collided with, and uses it as support as he staggers to his feet, blood dripping down his face and over his new (and designer) T-shirt. "Why do you care?" he spits, disorientated and confused, because why isn't Merlin attacking him again?

"Look, I don't mean you any harm," the vampire says, and Arthur laughs - croaky and disbelieving - because somehow, he doubts that. "If I wanted to kill you, don't you think I would have done it already, when you were lying unconscious in my bed?!"

Being unconscious and vulnerable in Merlin's bed is really not something Arthur wants to think about, and so he shakes his head, aware it's a stupid thing to do when his injury throbs in protest. He curses. "I don't know," he stammers, taking a deep breath and trying to regain his focus, "Maybe you have an ulterior motive."

"I don't," Merlin replies, cringing as he climbs to his feet, rubbing at his jaw where Arthur had smacked him. "You know, you've got a pretty good punch." He scrunches up his face, and it really shouldn't look so cute, but it does. "You're strong, even by a Slayer's standards."

Arthur laughs for a moment, but it's cold and without humour, because he guesses Merlin would know. He's killed two Slayers, after all - he must count as an expert.

"And you're fast," Arthur retorts, surveying the man through narrowed eyes, "Even for a vampire."

The vampire smiles - the sweet smile, full of sunshine and rainbows - and nods, not smugly, but in definite agreement. "I've been told that," he replies, hovering awkwardly, like he wants to approach but doesn't dare try. It's strange and disconcerting, because Merlin looks so tiny and fragile, but there's a spring in his step and a gleam in his eye.

Arthur watches him for a moment, and they fall into silence, as the Slayer attempts to make sense of information that's unravelled. He groans, rubbing at his head, but the blood is drying now - his Slayer healing already in motion. "If you don't want to kill me," he says uncertainly, Merlin's inconceivable claims ringing in his ears, "What do you want?"

Merlin bounces on the balls of his feet, apparently overcome with nervous energy, and replies, "I want to help you," with such resolute sincerity, Arthur almost believes him.

"Why?" he asks, confused, and tired, and completely lost.

Merlin laughs to himself, a breathless chuckle, and announces, "It's my destiny."

Arthur stares at him, hoping that it's some sort of joke, because he's really had enough of destiny lately. "_God_," he says, after a belated pause, "I really hate that word."

* * *

"So, you wanted me to listen," Arthur says a few minutes later, after he's had time to gather his thoughts and make himself comfortable. He's sat himself on the brick wall lining the graveyard (still gripping his stake), with Merlin in front of him, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot. "I'm listening."

Merlin takes a deep breath - wholly unnecessary, considering he's a vampire - and fiddles with his fingers, a gesture disconcertingly vulnerable when compared to the intensity of his expression. His eyes take in every angle of Arthur's face, which must look pale and sickly in the moonlight, so bright and unblinking that Arthur has to look away.

"Believe me when I say," the vampire ventures at last, floating closer slightly, as though he can't stop himself, "I don't mean you any harm."

Arthur coughs after a brief struggle not to laugh in disbelief, fingering the blood that has dried on his hands. "Is that what you said to the last two Slayers?" he replies, unforgiving.

Merlin shakes his head, looking like he's at a loss on how to defend himself, something that Arthur doesn't find particularly reassuring. "It's not like that," he explains, after a heavy pause. He smiles to himself, almost as a sad smile, as he struggles with his words. "I'm different - I have a _soul_ now."

Arthur reels, taken aback, because out of all the excuses Merlin could have invented, he wasn't expecting that. Everybody knows that vampires are evil - they don't _have_ souls.

"What?" he mouths, eyes searching for any trace of a lie in Merlin's expression. But the vampire's face is open and earnest, and it's not like Arthur could figure out Merlin was lying when he _was_ lying, so he's probably not the greatest judge. He shakes his head, confused, and croaks, "A soul?"

"Yes. After killing a gypsy girl over a hundred years ago, I was cursed to spend eternity paying for my evil," he explains, in a soft and distant voice. His eyes are unblinking, and his face rigid, having lost any trace of its previous youth and vulnerability; he looks as though he's in pain. "They restored my soul, knowing I would have to spend every moment of every day remembering the lives that I had taken and the pain that I caused."

Arthur almost wants to reply _good, _because Merlin's a killer, but there's something in the honest and pained tone of his voice that stops him.

"The memories never go away," Merlin continues, "But I haven't killed or harmed anyone since that day. I hope that if I help you, it might help balance the scales."

"So," Arthur begins, trying to rearrange everything Merlin had just said into something resembling _sense_, "You're a good vampire?" The words feel strange on his tongue.

"I try," Merlin replies, nodding his head and taking a seat next to the Slayer, now sure he's not going to be staked where he stands. He swings his legs backwards and forwards, like a child, as Arthur stares at his profile unblinkingly - the fluttering of his lashes and the slope of his lips. "I mean, I haven't fed on anyone in over a hundred years, and I try to help, where I can."

Arthur processes this slowly, and nods. "Like me."

Merlin tilts his head and smiles at him, previous pain forgotten - looking young, guileless, and not at all like a vampire. His face is deathly pale, but Arthur can see no other trace of demon, and wonders, rather belatedly, if he really does need a vampire locator. Or whether vampires can just where flashing signs for him, just to make things clear.

"Yes, I wanted to help you," Merlin replies, "I'm supposed to help you." He stares at Arthur with gleaming eyes, and reaches out a hand, ghosting a finger across the Slayer's temple, where the blood has dried from his head-wound. Arthur freezes at the contact, stuttering in a breath, as the vampire fingers - cold and steely - press delicately against his injury.

"I'm sorry," Merlin breathes, his brow furrowed in something that might resemble regret and concern. "I was just reacting - I didn't mean to hurt you."

His voice startles Arthur out of his stupor, and he jerks back, pulling himself away from the vampire's touch; not just because he's afraid that Merlin will hurt him, but because he's afraid he might actually like it. "Hey, no touch," he croaks, shaky and uncomfortable, because Merlin is a _vampire_ - soul or not - and he just can't go there. "I didn't - I didn't say I believed you."

Merlin's face falls at the rejection, but he rearranges his features almost a moment later - so quickly, Arthur thinks he might have imagined it. "Right. Of course," the vampire says, in a professional sort of tone, tucking his hand back against his side and swinging his legs, harder and faster than he had been before.

The sit in silence for an uncomfortable minute, Arthur attempting to process the events that have just transpired, until he can't take the tension any longer. "So where do we go from here?" he asks, questioning and confused, because he sure as hell has no idea. Are they enemies? Allies? _Friends_?

"Well," Merlin replies, taking in a long breath that isn't really necessary, "I actually came here tonight to give you some information." He climbs back to his feet, the intimate atmosphere having evaporated, and draws himself up, looking tall, collected, and much more like a vampire. "I found out that Valiant from the other night was working for someone - someone very powerful."

Arthur groans, because it's really not what he wants to hear. Valiant had been hard enough, and he really doesn't even want to think about having to face someone stronger than him; it's not a pleasant thought.

"Who?"

Merlin pauses for a moment (presumably gathering tension), before he replies, in a meaningful voice, "The Queen."

"Queen Elizabeth?!" Arthur exclaims, aghast.

There's a stilted pause, before Merlin corrects in an incredulous voice, "The _Vampire_ Queen!" He looks exasperated, amused, and a little bit like he's judging him.

Arthur just feels embarrassed.

"Oh, ok," he mouths, face heating, "Well that makes more sense."

* * *

"Soul?" Lance exclaims the next day, eyes so round they look as though they're about to pop out of his head. "Is that even possible?" He opens his mouth, closes it again, clearly a bit stumped, and repeats, "A vampire - with a _soul_."

Gaius raises an exasperated eyebrow, but nods his head, shuffling through his books and riffling through pages. He pushes his glasses further up his nose, knocks Arthur's legs off the library table (where he had been leisurely stretching them), and turns to address the assembled group. They all stare at him expectantly.

"It's certainly possible," he concedes, after a pause.

"I've heard of ancient gypsy spells like that," Morgana replies, looking up from where she's intently filing her nails, sounding knowing and important. "Most were lost over time, so whether he's actually telling the truth -"

"Um, guys," Arthur interrupts loudly, shaking his head, because he's had enough of talking about Merlin. Merlin, the vampire who had haunted his dreams the night before - disturbing him with images of blood, death, touch, and kisses. "Can we forget Merlin for a bit? Aren't we supposed to be focusing on the important stuff here?"

Lance, Gwen and Morgana, all stare at him, confused, until Gaius nods his head in agreement.

"Ah, yes," the Watcher says, tapping at his book significantly, "The Vampire Queen." He lets out a breath, his expression sombre, and clears his throat with a papery hand. "I've done some research and it seems what Merlin is saying is true - or at least some of it. There's references in many texts to a Vampire Queen - her identify is, well, vague, but most Watcher's have assume she is the vampire Morgause, whose dates seem to match that of the Vampire Queen."

"So, she's in town?" Gwen squeaks, sounding a bit terrified, and Arthur can't really blame her, because he's not feeling much more confident himself.

Gaius nods, reluctant, and admits, "If what Merlin says is true, I believe so."

They all look at each other - even Morgana, who's frozen with her nail-varnish mid-flick - and say nothing, too afraid to ask anything further, afraid of what the answer will be. They shift uncomfortably, worry hanging in the air, until Lance ventures, "And that's bad? Really bad?" in a croaky sort of voice.

"The worst," Gaius informs them, which is exactly what Arthur _doesn't_ want to hear. The Watcher looks back at his books, apparently unable to hold his Slayer's stricken gaze. "The Vampire Queen is an ancient vampire of formidable power. As a witch in life, it appears she retained her power in death, making her far beyond anything you've faced before. She's no ordinary vampire. It says here, _she has the powers of the devil, ancient and unstoppable._"

"What powers?" Arthur asks, reluctantly, because he's not sure he even wants to hear the answer. "What would that involve?"

Gaius gives his shoulders a helpless shrug, his finger skimming pages at a frantic pace. "I don't know," he admits, "Not many people have lived to write excerpts regarding the Vampire Queen." He flicks through a couple of books with a loud rustle. "There's references to hypnotism (sort of like Merlin is capable of), mind-control, sensing abilities - but it's all rather vague."

Arthur's stomach lurches, and he's fairly sure he is sporting a rather attractive deer-caught-in-the-headlights expression, eyes wide and round. "Um - I don't have _any_ of those powers!" he exclaims.

Gaius nods, and scratches his head. "No, no you don't."

There's silence for a long moment, until Morgana says, "Well, Arthur, it's been nice knowing you," in a mournful sort of tone.

"Morgana!" Gwen breathes, looking aghast on Arthur's behalf, and the Slayer thanks the Lord he has one nice friend.

He glares at Morgana through slanted eyes, hoping she can feel his disdain. When she says nothing further, however, and merely returns to painting her nails obliviously, Arthur looks to Gaius, throwing up his hands in defeat. "She's right, isn't she?" he exclaims, not caring that he might be sounding slightly over-dramatic, "I might as well stab myself now and save Morgause the trouble."

"Don't be ridiculous," Gaius replies, with an exasperated shake of his head. He removes his glasses and puts his books down with a _thump_. "We just have to step up your training, that's all. Maybe you can get Merlin to help you."

"Yeah," Morgana says sarcastically, "That's a good idea! Get trained by the crazy and potentially evil _vampire_!"

Arthur just ignores her.

* * *

"Train you?" Merlin repeats later that night, as though he can't quite believe what he's hearing.

He's sat on the floor cross-legged, picking at the grass, and watching - rather apathetically - as Arthur fights his latest vampire. He makes no move to help, only cringes when the Slayer takes a particularly hard punch. It's both annoying and endearing, and Arthur's suddenly finding it rather difficult to concentrate.

"Yes," he replies, between blows, "Train me."

Merlin says nothing for a moment, his face scrunching in the moonlight, before he asks conversationally, "Train you how? Isn't that what your Watcher's for?"

"Gaius is pretty old," Arthur explains, being generous, because Gaius is _very_ old. "His ability to do the physical stuff with me is fairly limited." He ducks the vampire's flying foot. "He's more of a point and order around sort of guy."

Merlin nods understandingly, and tilts his head, following with curious eyes as Arthur smacks the vampire into a tombstone and delivers a roundhouse kick to his jaw.

"It's just - you've been around for centuries, right?" the Slayer continues, gulping in a lungful of air and flipping himself backwards, retrieving his stake that he had dropped a few feet away. "You've got moves I've never even heard of - and presumably the Vampire Queen will as well." He ducks as the vampire flies for him, and twirls until he's at it's back, stabbing the stake between his shoulder blades with all his might. "I have no tactic or technique beyond _win_."

Merlin watches unblinkingly as the vampire disintegrates into dust, and comments, "Seems to be working out pretty well for you."

The Slayer dusts of his hands and sweeps the hair - which is now plastered all over his face - away from his eyes. "You did say you were here to guide me," he points out, not wanting to plead, but wanting Merlin to do this for him more than he's willing to contemplate - and he's not even sure why. He meets the vampire's gaze dead-on. "Please."

"So you must -" Merlin begins, before breaking off. He looks down at his feet and fiddles with his laces, brow furrowed, before trying again. "So you must believe I have a soul then?"

Arthur nods his head in a reluctant sort of jerk. "We looked it up, and Morgana and Gaius agreed it wasn't _entirely_ implausible," he says, shuffling on the spot, "So maybe."

Merlin raises his eyebrows. "Maybe?"

Arthur sighs, not wanting to admit that he _does_ believe him, in case he's wrong and Merlin's playing him like a complete idiot. He doesn't want to be naïve - to have it come back and bite him in the ass, or neck, as the case may be - but he wouldn't even be asking the vampire to train him if he didn't truly believe he was good. He just really doesn't want to admit it.

"Well, ok," he says slowly, reluctantly, "Yes, I do trust that you have a soul - for now. Because I'm a nice, trusting person." He shifts from one foot to another and looks down at Merlin meaningfully, his stake still clutched in his grasp. "But if you _are_ lying and you try to kill me, I swear to god, I'll stake you so hard your mother will feel it."

The vampire stares at him in something akin to astonishment for one long moment, and blinks slowly, nodding. "Consider me warned," he croaks.

_To be continued..._

* * *

A/N This chapter was originally supposed to be longer, but I cut some things out, things were moving a bit too quickly. I'm going to add an extra chapter in instead, so it might take me some time to figure it out.

Please R&R! It takes hours to write, only minutes to review :)


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